The Rolls Royce had no form of heating and they were pleased to turn into the hotel where they had use of a suite for the afternoon.
“No charge, Tommy! I made the booking, explained why I needed a room for a few hours only when they informed me that they were not that sort of institution and did not cater to that particular set of needs.”
“What needs, sir?”
Lord Moncur snorted in delight at the incomprehension on his son-in-law’s face.
“Gentlemen making an assignation with the lady of their fancy for a few hours will often take a bedroom in a hotel for an afternoon, Tommy. Certain of the hotels in this part of Town have secluded rear entrances which cannot be overlooked – one party through the front door, the other through the back, quite separately and discreet.”
“Oh! Catering for adultery in fact, sir.”
“Just so, Tommy.”
“I presume at a high price?”
“I would not know.”
“Neither you should, sir. Anyway, sir, having established that this was not our requirement, they cooperated happily, you say?”
“They did. Afternoon tea will be served in their lounge in half an hour. Time to remove the excesses of formal dress, one must imagine.”
The hotel manager was present, smiling and leading them to the best seats, exclaiming on the honour done to his hotel. He had obtained copies of the more recent photographs from France from the newspaper offices and begged Tommy to sign a pair, to be framed and placed discreetly in the lobby and lounge.
“We do attempt to tastefully display our loyalty and support for those who are fighting in France, sir.”
Tommy smiled his very best and signed as indicated; Brigadier Trenchard would expect him to.
They relaxed over tea and little cakes, all of the best.
“How soon may we expect victory in France, Tommy?”
Lady Moncur had lost a little weight, was still in half-blacks for her son George.
“There will be no victory in France, ma’am. There is, and will be, nothing other than stalemate there. If this war is to be won, it will be elsewhere. Perhaps by a breakthrough in Italy, or even through the Balkans. Perhaps we could send an army to Russia to make an attack through the Eastern Front, which is far less fortified. A landing on the coast of Denmark and then a thrust down into North Germany might be successful. I can see no other possibility of military victory.”
“To land in Denmark would make an enemy of Sweden, Tommy. Too great a risk. Add to that, it would upset the Americans, who have such a respect for neutrality.” Lord Moncur was dismissive of Tommy’s solutions, believing they demanded more men and munitions than the country possessed. “It will have to be blockade, Tommy. That and exhaustion of the natural resources of Germany. Another two or three years and Germany will run out of petrol and the rarer metals needed for hardened steel; simultaneously, the food shortage will become overwhelming. We must simply hang on, and keep Germany fighting, using up her reserves of men and material.”
“For two or three more years, sir?”
“At a minimum. We will be able to call on the Empire for more men, India especially. An offer of Dominion status will bring the Indian politicians around; the government is considering the policy now. A few diehards like Churchill are digging their heels in, but it is probable that we shall be able to bring him to accept the need for change. In any case, he will not last past the change in Prime Minister that is bound to occur. Lloyd George has nothing other than contempt for Churchill and Winston detests Lloyd George, believing that a man of his birth and breeding has no place in the government of the country. Churchill simply does not see that an India as free as Australia is today will produce another five million of infantrymen; all Churchill sees is blacks who must be kept in their place.”
“We would avoid conscription if we could recruit that many men, sir.”
“We could, and should do so. Conscription will be an unmitigated evil – it will make us no better than Germany!”
They talked a while longer and sipped their tea until Smivvels appeared to tell them that their cars were waiting. The family disposed itself in the Rolls Royce, leaving from the front while Smivvels and the nursery maid packed their clothing in a lesser vehicle from the staff entrances at the rear.
They returned to Long Benchley for the night, back to Wilton and, they hoped, invisible domesticity in the morning.
The newspapers had been busy and the local press especially made a splash of the photographs of a Wiltshire hero. The Wiltshire Times and Trowbridge Advertiser was always conscious of the presence of the military on Salisbury Plain and would not let the opportunity of a local hero pass; the whole village was in process made aware of Tommy’s glory.
“We must attend church on Sunday morning, Tommy and the vicar will certainly make some reference to your presence in the congregation. You really must not stand up and correct him, Tommy. Please?”
“I shall be good, Monkey. A few days and I shall be off again – you have to live here permanently. It would not be fair of me to label the vicar as an idiot when it would be you that received the outrage of the old ladies.”
The weather turned more than ordinarily foul, heavy rain intermixed with sleet in the days, clearing at night to permit heavy frosts and the formation of sheets of ice across roads and walkways alike. The bulk of the elderly of the village stayed at home, unable to venture out for fear of falls and broken legs.
“A great pity, Tommy – but it saves us from any number of polite callers wishing to share a cup of tea and bask in your presence. They would wish to celebrate your birthday, you know, at the Village Hall, but will not in hard winter. This weather will turn to snow any day, you know.”
“Insufficient ever to close down the railways, I fear, my love. I would like nothing more than to be snowed in for the next two months, but it will not be so. Did you speak to Mrs Wyndham this morning?”
“I did, and she has received a letter from Noah, hoping to take leave in a few weeks. She will be delighted to see him, she tells me, especially as she need not, I quote, ‘fear a mother-in-law’.”
“I am so glad, my love. He will be so much happier with a wife, settled finally into a secure existence.”
“Do you know exactly where he was brought up, Tommy?”
“In the north, somewhere. He has never wished to be open about his childhood; I must respect his privacy. I have a strong suspicion that it was not a happy time. I have indeed, a feeling that he might have been sent away to a home for delinquent boys rather than a true orphanage. Some of the street criminals end up in special schools that prepare them for life as upright citizens; I would not dream of asking whether that is so – but the education of Biblical texts and tags from Shakespeare makes me inclined to wonder.”
“Does that make a boy a good man, Tommy?”
“Damned good question! There are those who think it does, or so it seems. It has worked for Noah, at least. There are, however, very few of his quality, irrespective of education and upbringing.”
No Longer A Game
Chapter Nine
“Number Ones for the morning, Smivvels. I must listen respectfully to General Henderson, smiling sweetly the while.”
“Way it’s snowing, sir, you might not get to London.”
“The milk train will always get through, Smivvels, they will put a second engine to it if necessary; London relies on its West Country milk and butter. To Salisbury on the four o’clock workman’s local – and that always runs, must get the men to work! Then take the second mixed goods and passenger train out of Salisbury. Goes to Waterloo Station rather than to Paddington, for some reason. Probably to get the milk and fresh butcher’s meat to the markets. Gets in for half past six, or supposed to. Take a breakfast in the mess at headquarters and be ready to meet the man for eight-thirty. Might be less easy to get back in the afternoon, if the snow don’t let up during the day.”
“You can always take the mainline to Sw
indon, sir. Always open that one is – I can remember as a boy, sir, seeing pictures of snowplough engines on the Great Western. Might be difficult across the Plain, sir, but you can put up in the Railway Hotel in Swindon overnight if needs be.”
The railway lines would never be closed for more than a day in southern and western England, especially in wartime. At least one half of the Home Service battalions of the Army were to be found on Salisbury Plain, and they must not be isolated.
The train was no more than five minutes late at Waterloo and Tommy was sat in the Mess at HQ before seven o’clock, as he had predicted. The food was as lavish as he had expected – no shortages in quantity or quality in the vicinity of a general.
He was paraded in front of General Henderson within the second of his time at eight-thirty, much to his superior’s approval.
“No reason to let a bit of snow delay a keen man, Major Stark! Not that I thought it would! Very good stuff in the papers the other day, Major Stark. Had any number of comments reported, people of importance saying that you showed the difference between the true Englishman and the Prussian warrior. None of that spurs and sabres nonsense, just a family man who had rather by far be in the company of his wife and daughter, but forced to fight for all he holds dear. Not sure they ain’t right, you know!”
“I had rather be at home, sir, certainly. But I cannot stay behind when there is man’s work to be done.”
Tommy was rather surprised to discover that he actually meant what he had just said; he would be ashamed not to be out in France.
“You speak for us all, Major Stark. Now, I have a job for you – and you will not thank me for it. Bit of a bloody mess to sort out. More than a bit. Bombardment work, which is your cup of tea, of course. Thirty-Two Squadron was formed in August at Netheravon with RE7s as a strategic bombardment unit. They are still at Netheravon three months later. I sacked the CO last week; he was put on a ship for Cape Town, and then Rhodesia, this morning, to command the first training airfield there. Two grass huts and a single Longhorn, if it’s still flying! The Squadron is a shambles. I want it in France and working by February, and able to offer real support to the Army by the summer. Captain Arkwright is on his way to join you – no sense appointing you without a damned good man at your shoulder.”
“I’ve not seen an RE7, sir.”
“You won’t see many – it ain’t a lot of good, but it is all that we have just now. De Havilland is working on a very promising bombardment machine, but it is months from service. All we have is two squadrons of RE7s and we must provide support to the Army in the rear area. We can drop bombs at the front, and for the mile or two behind the trenches, but we have nothing at the moment to deal with the stretch twenty to two hundred miles back. We must be able to drop bombs on the rest areas and on the supply dumps and onto the railway stations. Big bombs.”
“The new three hundredweight bomb, sir?”
“That’s the one. We have been able to modify the Navy’s Semi-Armour-Piercing fuses for them so that they won’t explode directly underneath the plane. Three hundred and thirty-six pounds of bomb, three quarters of that High Explosive, the remainder iron casing. That will do a lot of no good when it lands. Provided it lands in the right place.”
“So, we must work out some way of aiming the bombs, sir. Has the Squadron made any progress in that field?”
“The Squadron has made no progress at all, Major Stark! It has limited its endeavours to poodle-faking in London’s more disreputable clubs and Mayfair’s ballrooms, and to taking part in point-to-point racing in the County. The pilots have become doyens of the social scene in Wiltshire and Hampshire and Somerset, but seem to have been unable to discover how to drop bombs. That will cease to be the case, Major Stark.”
“Playboys of the Western World, sir? Not appropriate in wartime!”
“I say, Major Stark! Rather literary for you, sir?”
“I have been in my wife’s company for the last fortnight, sir, and she is far better educated than I. Some of it must rub off, sir!”
“So it must. You will have quarters at Netheravon but will be free to live at Wilton at your discretion, Major Stark. The journey must be less than half an hour, I would think.”
“Thank you, sir. I will make the choice as becomes appropriate. I think I shall be well advised to spend much of the week on camp, at first at least. Who is adjutant, sir? An important position in a squadron.”
“I shall find you a penguin, Major Stark, a man who knows his way about. You may well wish to ground some of your existing pilots; I could send word to France to post some men known to you to the squadron.”
“That would be appreciated, sir. Experienced, working pilots and observers would be very useful. Lieutenant Allen who flew with me into Belgium a few weeks ago, would be very welcome. Fred Petersham as well. Some of the young men from Thirty Squadron, if their Flights are still over size, sir. I have found the new Australians and Canadians to make very good fliers, sir; nothing of the spoiled brat in them!”
General Henderson’s aide noted the names, said that he would personally negotiate with Brigadier Trenchard for their release.
“Talking of brats, Major Stark, you will remember the name of Travers. The rather wet young man who caused you to perform circus tricks at two thousand feet?”
“Ah, yes, sir. I could prefer to forget that one.”
“He left the country last month, having been formally disowned by his father. No title to inherit and no entail to descend to him, it would seem, so he could quite lawfully be thrown out of the family. Given a thousand pounds in sovereigns was the word and sent off never to return. No provision made for him in the Will. Given a ticket for Samoa in the South Seas, there to become a beachcomber, one presumes. A fitting end for the horrible youth!”
“Better than he deserves, sir. I have some sympathy for the natives of Samoa. Not to worry, sir – a bad lot and best forgotten. When do I report to my squadron, sir? Soon, I presume, if they have no CO.”
“No gain to appearing there while it is snowing, Major Stark. They cannot fly in snow. The weather man says that there is only a day in this snowfall; then there will be something of a thaw which will leave the field sodden. Give yourself three more days, Major Stark. That will also allow time for Captain Arkwright to reach you.”
“Thank you, sir. One request, sir. My father’s old chief mechanic, Mr Bolton, is now an acting-sergeant I believe. Would it be possible for him to join me, preferably as a Flight-Sergeant?”
“I will see where he is and whether it is practical to release him, Major Stark. I have a vague memory of meeting him at Brooklands, in fact. If he can be sent to you, he will be.”
“Thank you, sir. If the plane is not of the best, then a good mechanic may be very useful, and Mr Bolton is one of the very best.”
“Good. What do you intend to do now, Major Stark; this morning, that is?”
“Make my way to Harrods, I think, sir. Then to have a look into the jewellers there and see what I can purchase for my wife.”
“Try Rundell and Bridge instead, Major Stark. Two of the current owner’s younger sons have joined us this year. Neither is dead yet. You might well find a bargain there. I’ll get my driver to take you across.”
It seemed a fraction unethical, yet it might lead to a better piece than he had first thought possible. Tommy smiled his thanks.
He walked into the jewellers, looking about him rather uncertainly. A middle-aged gentleman addressed him, asked if he might be of service.
“Are you not Major Stark, sir? I have an interest in the RFC and I believe I saw your face recently in the press.”
“I am Major Stark, sir.”
“Very good. Let me guess, sir, and suggest that you are looking for a present for your lady wife to celebrate your first-born?”
“I am, of course, sir.”
“I have a piece that I imagine may be the very thing, sir. Some very good diamonds – not vulgarly large but of fine colour and
perfectly cut. Out of Holland, of course. Made up as a pendant about a very interesting and uncommon emerald which we came across last year. The stone comes, I believe, by way of Servia, may have been sold by a refugee from the wars there. All on a gold chain, as one might expect. I am sure you will admire the stones, sir.”
Tommy was almost awe-struck when he saw the pendant; it was truly elegant, or so he believed.
“It comes in at two hundred pounds, Major Stark. An heirloom for Mrs Stark to leave to her daughter.”
The price was ridiculously low, unbelievably so.
“I would add a photograph to that price, Major Stark, if you would be so good. It will take a few minutes to call up a professional, sir, if you would be so condescending as to wait?”
Ten minutes with a pot of coffee and conversation about the RFC with a surprisingly knowledgeable host and the cameraman appeared.
“Mr Kleinman often makes a photographic record of outstanding stones for us, Major Stark. He is a very able man with his cameras.”
Mr Kleinman nodded and offered a jerky little bow.
“Ja, I am so.” He seemed to think that his Germanic name needed some explanation. “I have been in England for fifteen years, sir, and am a British citizen, sir. I came on a visit and found that I would rather be a Jew in England than in Prussia, sir. My wife and children agree. Now, sir, the light is best near the long mirrors at the end here. How do you wish the shots to be taken, sir?”
Tommy found it very difficult to deal with a civilised, courteous photographer – he had never met one before.
“With your permission, Major Stark, I shall place one of these photographs in the window of my studio. It will attract the attention of my clientele.”
“Of course, I am glad to be of use to you, sir.”
“If you come to London with your wife and daughter, sir, I shall be very glad to make family photographs for you. A telephone call will make immediate arrangements. Do not look surprised, sir – I too read the newspapers.”
No Longer A Game (Innocents At War Series, Book 3) Page 21